


Heartache

by GoodJanet



Category: Mad Men
Genre: Angst, Awkward Sexual Situations, Cunnilingus, F/M, Face-Sitting, Friends With Benefits, Goodbyes, Hugs, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Kissing, Lap Sex, Married Couple, Married Life, Married Sex, Office Sex, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Sad, Sexual Dysfunction
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-06
Updated: 2017-07-06
Packaged: 2018-11-28 19:14:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 2,844
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11424366
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GoodJanet/pseuds/GoodJanet
Summary: 5 times Don tried to use sex to cope, and 1 time he didn't.





	1. Don/Betty

**Author's Note:**

  * For [remulon](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=remulon).



There’s a reason he never opened up to Betty, and that was because Don always thought she deserved better. Betty had lived a carefree life. She had had a nanny and money and manners. Hell, she even had her own horse when she was growing up. 

Don couldn’t give her all of those things, but he could keep her comfortable. He could keep her happy with what they had. He could push his past away if it meant having her beauty, grace, and charm in his life.

And he was able to do all of that.

For a while.

Things started feeling...off around the time Sally turned three…

“Don, you're worrying over nothing. I don’t know why you’re being like this.”

“Betts, another baby? Sally just had her birthday.”

Don remembered what it was like when Adam was born. He remembered how disappointed and angry Uncle Mack was when Abigail told him the news.

_Another mouth to feed! We can’t afford another mouth, Abigail! It’s bad enough that we got Dick passing out cheese and crackers to passing tramps. You’re going to ruin us!_

No one should feel that way about something as sweet and innocent as a baby.

“I loved having a little brother to play with. Being an only child is so lonely. I’m sure you’d agree,” Betty says.

Don bites the inside of his cheek to keep himself from blurting out the truth.

“What if we can't afford it. I want to be able to provide for you and Sally. What if we don’t have the money?”

He reaches across the table to hold her hand. The last thing he wanted to do was ruin what they had. It was so good that everything from his past didn’t seem to matter. ~~Almost.~~

“We’ll think of something. We always do. And if we need to, we can always ask my—”

“No, Betts.”

Betty closes her mouth. Her parents were always a sore subject in their house. It was easier to simply not argue.

“I don't want charity from your parents,” Don says.

“Don, they’d do anything to have more grandchildren. You know how bratty William’s children are. They love Sally.”

Don sighs. There was no point in arguing with her. He knows she's right. There really isn't a reason why they shouldn't have another.

“Is this really what you want?”

Betty beams.

“More than anything.”

Don smiles in defeat.

“Okay,” he says. “Let’s go make a brother for Sally.”

“Right now? It’s the middle of the day!”

Betty grins at the scandal of it all.

“Come on,” Don says, standing. “There’s no time like the present.”

Betty races him to the top of the stairs, and Don would swear he’d never seen her look happier.


	2. Don/Peggy

The building was dark. As usual, they were the last ones at the office. He doesn’t plan on propositioning her, but seeing her stand there, making coffee for the two of them, he sees an opportunity. An opportunity to not have to drive home at this late hour to his dark, empty apartment, and have nothing to do but wait for that eventual inevitable call from California.

“Do you want sugar?” Peggy asks, not turning around.

He steps up behind her, into her personal space. He decides to take a risk, and his hands gravitate to her waist.

“You could say that,” he says.

To someone who didn’t know him, it might come across as sultry or playful. To Peggy, it was just annoying. She turns around, but he doesn’t give her an inch. He looks down at her with heavy-lidded eyes. He’s still got his hands on her waist, and the last thing he wants to do is let her go. Letting her go would mean being alone, and being alone, tonight, was just not an option.

“Don, no.”

“Oh, come on.”

She lifts her hands up and gently, yet firmly pushes his hands off her, allowing her to step away from him and walk away.

“Peggy, wait.”

Against her better judgement, she does. She rolls her eyes as she turns around.

“What, Don?”

“Don’t go.”

She sighs.

"Okay."

* * *

They fuck in his office, and she regrets it the minute he finishes. When he pulls out of her, he immediately sits down in his desk chair, and she sits up on his desk. They hadn’t even taken their clothes off.

“Was that just something you needed to get out of your system, or are you secretly harboring feelings for me?” she deadpans.

His eyes flick up to hers, and she meets his gaze, challenging.

“I don’t know,” he answers honestly, shrugging.

Her brows furrow, and he feels guilty for not knowing.

“This isn’t going to change anything between us, is it?”

Don is hurt that she felt she had to ask.

“No, no, of course not.”

“Okay, good.”

She scoots to the edge of his desk and hops off. She pulls up her underwear and hose and smooths her skirt down. Peggy looks up when she’s done, but Don’s still staring at the floor.

“Are you okay?” she asks. "You're awfully quiet. More than usual."

He looks up at her. There’s unmistakable tears in his eyes.

“I’m fine. You go on home. I’ll finish up here.”

Peggy frowns.

“You can call me if you need anything,” she says.

Don nods, already lost in thought once more.

She pats his shoulder a few times before walking out of his office.

The door barely has time to close behind her before Don begins to sob.


	3. Don/Faye

It's the third time Faye has seen him wake himself up in a cold sweat this week. Don usually woke himself in one of three ways, thrashed at the covers—and at her—in his sleep like he was fending off ghosts. Most often, he would wake himself as he screamed into his pillow. Sometimes cried, silently, not waking himself at all, but shaking the bed until she did. The worst times, the times where it was hardest to pull him back, he woke himself up as he moaned and came, untouched, into the folds of his sheets.

It's one of those nights.

“Shit, shit. I’m so sorry. I’m sor—”

“Don,” Faye says.

He has a tendency to babble and repeat himself when he wakes up in a state. She’s learned to cut him off before he begins. She can't reach him when he gets like that.

“It’s okay. There’s clean ones in the linen closet.”

Don is still breathing heavily when she pulls the covers off the bed and piles them into a corner of the room. Don never did more than hint, but she's been trained to look for signs, and this is textbook combat fatigue and sexual trauma plaguing him.

“Why don’t you put on some fresh pajamas,” she suggests.

Don nods, and when she comes back with clean blankets from his hall closet, he’s tossing his bottoms into the pile of soiled linens. She observes him standing there, facing the corner of the room like a punished child. It makes her heart break. Who hurt this man?

“Do you wanna talk about it?” Faye asks.

“No.”

She's surprised he's speaking at all, so she doesn't press him.

“Come back to bed. Even if you don’t sleep, you should try to rest. I can help you relax.”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” he says.

He turns back to face her, and she can see that he’s still hard. That was new for him, but it was not an uncommon response for sexual victims. Faye nervously licks her lips.

“Don, it’s okay. Come back to bed.”

As though in a trance, he follows her instruction. She wishes there was more she could do for him.

He sits on his side of the bed, propped up against the headboard. He grabs his cigarettes and lighter off the nightstand without even looking. It’s only seconds later that grey smoke is softly wafting towards the ceiling, catching the moonlight like will o’ the wisps. He lets the hand holding the cigarette dangle off the bed, and for a split second she thinks he might answer her, but he doesn’t. His face just scrunches like he’s in pain. 

He doesn’t turn to face her. He stamps out his cigarette, still staring straight ahead, though she knows he’s not seeing anything she can see. She waits with bated breath to see what he might say or do, trying to channel all her training—be firm, be calm, talk slowly and softly, listen, help any way that she can. She puts her hand on his shoulder in an effort to ground him, but he flinches away, as though burned.

She's about to apologize when—

So quickly does Don move that she doesn’t even have the time to _think_ of trying to flee. Suddenly, he is lying on top of her, hands wrapped like vices around her wrists, and he’s still hard. She can feel him pressed against her stomach. He looks down at her with unseeing eyes. He looks terrified.

Her training has not prepared her for _this._

“Are you real?” he asks.

“Yes,” she breathes.

She does not try to get away.

“Prove it.”

“How?”

“If you’re real, then why aren’t you running away? Why aren’t you fighting?”

He’s projecting now, she realizes. She takes a deep breath, tries to stay calm.

“Because I love you. Because I care about you.”

There’s a few seconds where all Don does is look at her face with an unreadable expression, but then he’s pressing their mouths together, and his grip on her wrists eases and releases. He collapses into her arms with a semi-relieved sobs as he finally re-enters the present.

“It’s okay,” Faye says, stroking his hair and his back. “It’s okay. I’ve got you. It’s okay. I’m here.”


	4. Don/Joan

They get back from testing out the Jaguar, and they can’t keep their hands off each other.

“I thought I scared the shit out of you,” she says against his lips, yanking his jacket off him.

“You do,” he says, unzipping her dress in no next to no time.

She lets the fabric fall to the floor. His hands cup her ass, and she takes the cue to jump into his arms. Don holds her like lifting her was no more difficult that holding a loaf of bread. It’s incredibly hot, and she captures his lips in another searing kiss.

“Which way to your room?” he asks.

She tilts her head in the right direction, and he carries her the whole way there. He sits down on the edge of her bed and lies back.

“Oh, am I in charge tonight?” she teases.

“Always,” he says.

She gets up in order to remove her bra and panties, and Don watches her, propped up on his elbows, with a slightly slack jaw. Joan pulls the pins out of her hair, and her red curls tumble down around her naturally rosy cheeks. She tosses her head a little, and Don thinks he might come just from watching _that_.

“I think you’re over-dressed, Mr. Draper.”

Don needs no more encouragement. He gets his clothes off in record time, and soon, he’s lying back again, Joan sitting in his lap. He guides his cock inside of her, and she lets out a high-pitched gasp.

“Well, that was gratifying,” Don husks.

Joan giggles and begins to move.

“Think you can take it?” Don teases.

Joan snorts good-naturedly. She decides to play along.

“I don’t know, Mr. Draper. You’re _so_ big.”

Don moans and thrusts up hard when she says that. She’s obviously struck a nerve.

“I’ve never done anything like this before,” she breathes into his ear. “You have to teach me.”

“Fuck,” Don says eloquently.

Her nails run through his hair, and he shudders. He releases one of her hips so he can bring his hand over to rub her. Joan gasps.

“Keep going,” Don urges.

Joan is happy to oblige.

“Am I doing this right, Mr. Draper?” Joan bites her lip, she could feel herself getting close. She can’t focus on the game anymore. “I-I—!”

But she doesn’t have to think of anything else because then Don’s groaning heavily into her ear, and she feels him come inside of her. His hand doesn’t stop moving until she clenches around him like a vice, milking him completely dry.

She lies next to him in the aftermath and waits for him to open his eyes before speaking.

“Well, that was unexpected,” she says.

Don swallows.

“I’m sorry. I should’ve asked before...doing that.”

Joan strokes his hair, and he leans into the touch.

“It’s okay. It was something you obviously needed to hear. I was willing, you know.”

“I’m sorry.”

He’s tan, but she can see his cheeks redden.

“Don,” she says, softly, sweetly.

He takes her hand between his and kisses it.

“Thank you,” he says.

Joan knows he means it.


	5. Don/Megan

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is what I pictured Megan was wearing:
> 
> http://www.pinuppassion.com/images/pinupgallery10.jpg

“Don, come to bed. It’s getting late,” Megan calls from their bedroom.

“Just a minute!”

Don pours over the notes from the meeting, trying to find something, some new angle that would convince them that SC&P was _the_ ad agency for them. What was he missing? There had to be—

“Don?”

Don looks up, ready to tell Megan that he was busy and would probably be up for a few more hours brainstorming, but he stops short. For there was his wife, hands on her hips, wearing barely-there red panties, a red wrap top, and pair of red kitten heels.

“Jesus Christ,” Don breathes.

Megan grins from ear to ear

“I figured since the kids were with their mother this weekend, you and I could find something for the two of us to do. If you’re not too busy, of course.”

She gives a fake pout, and Don stands up in more ways than one. He tosses his pen onto the table.

“Nothing that can’t be done tomorrow,” he says.

* * *

“Don, it’s okay. Really.”

“Fuck, just—just give me a second.”

Megan licks her lips. Things had been perfectly fine until—

“Damn it,” he murmurs.

“It’s fine. You’ve probably just been working yourself too hard.”

Defeated, Don rolls off of her and lies on his back, staring up at the ceiling. Megan moves to sit up against the headboard. She lights herself a cigarette.

“Have you been having nightmares again?”

“Megan.”

“You can tell me. You haven’t had one in a long time.”

That wasn’t true. He just woke up and didn’t tell her. She was a much heavier sleeper than Faye.

“There’s other things we can do, you know,” he says instead.

Megan sighs.

“I know. But I like…being close to you. Feeling you inside me. I like making you feel good.”

“Trust me,” he says. “This”—he indicates to his lower half—“is not because of anything you’re doing wrong.”

Megan cracks a smile.

“You’re not just saying that?”

“God no.”

She stubs out her cigarette and kisses him.

“C’mere,” Don says. His voice is raspy, and Megan shivers. “Let me make it up to you.”

He tugs on her leg until she gets the hint and throws her leg over his body until she’s hovering over his face.

Don makes good on his promise.


	6. Dick & Anna

Dick never felt like he needed to explain anything Anna because Anna always seemed to already know what he was going to say before he said it.

“I don’t know what I’d do without you, Anna.”

She smiles serenely.

“Oh, you give me too much credit.”

Don scoots closer to her on the couch.

“I mean it. You—you’re—”

“You know, I don’t think I’ve ever seen you this tongue-tied. It’s good to know that even devastatingly handsome men such as yourself aren’t totally perfect.”

“ _Anna_.”

She laughs, and Dick feels his heart swell until he thinks his chest might burst. He acts purely on his emotions then. He holds her hands in his and gently pulls her in for a kiss. And she allows it, for a moment.

“Now, Dick, I know you didn’t mean that. You haven’t shut up after that girl of yours back in New York.”

Dick at least has the decency to look sheepish. He cracks a grin just _thinking_ about Betty.

“I know. I know. But you’re _you_.”

“You sure know how to butter a girl up.”

“I can’t help it. I love you, Anna.”

“I love you too, Dick.”

“We’re probably not going to be able to see each other for a while,” he says.

There’s a lump in his throat. 

“I know.”

Dick throws his arms around Anna’s shoulders and buries his face into her neck because even if she knew he was crying, that didn’t mean he wanted her to see him. Dick doesn’t know how long they sit on Anna’s couch like that, arms wrapped around each other, and the only reason Dick moves is because he has a flight to catch.

“Don’t be a stranger,” Anna says.

Dick waves from his car and drives off into the sunset.


End file.
